Red Hiding
by Danicakate
Summary: In a training excercise, Jane is hiding. But when something goes wrong, will his perfect hiding spot be his final one? My first Mentalist Fanfic, please read and review!
1. A New Teresa

**Disclaimer:** This is my blanket disclaimer for all chapters. Sadly, I don't own these characters. If I did, being the selfish person that I am, I wouldn't be sharing. They wouldn't appear on your TV, and Jane and Lisbon would be together already.

**Chapter 1: A New Teresa**

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drop by drop, blood was running down the drain, being washed away, never to be seen, never to be traced back to it's owner, who was even now lying just metres away from the drain, blond curls matted, ace pale and haggard, eyes closed. Never to be traced…_

Squawking filled the CBI Headquarters. Lisbon looked up. Jane was standing in the doorway of her office. This was normal. He was carrying a chicken. This was not normal. However, with Jane, you were never quite sure if he was on the same page.

"Jane, what the hell are you doing with a chicken in my office? I assume you're not planning on roasting it for lunch, as you seem to be lacking the necessary spices, an oven, and, oh yeah, _it's alive_." All in all, Lisbon thought it was a rather satisfactory rant. Normally Jane didn't give her the chance to get out more than three words.

"Chicken? What chicke- oh, you mean Teresa?" Jane gave her an overly-innocent look as he sat down on the corner of her desk. A snort of laughter came for the general direction of the doorway, where Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt stood crowded. As this laughter was quickly stifled with a glare, it was impossible to tell from whom it came. All three had red, strained faces. Van Pelt was trying very hard to hide behind the other two, so Jane was putting his money on her.

"Teresa." Lisbon's voice was deathly calm and even. An obvious sign of irritation. "Interesting name for a chicken. Normally you'd call them something like Speckles, or, or Feathers or something more chicken-like. You don't normally give them people names. It makes them so very much harder to eat."

"Well, you know, lots of kids name their pets after their heroes. I didn't have a pet so I had to go out and get one. You really ought to be flattered." There was another stifled giggle from the doorway. Lisbon didn't notice. She'd just noticed that there was a gleam in Jane's eyes that was distinctly disarming. Without her usual weaponry of sarcasm, an icy voice and an evil glare, she was helpless, floating on a tide of irritation, doing her best not to be swept away by the tide of those beautiful deep blue ey- no, she would not get distracted. She was going to yell at Jane, and neither he nor his eyes were going to stop her, his big beautiful, deep, dark, bottomless blue-

She shook her head, trying to clear it. She realised that they were staring at her.

"Flattered. Yes. Whatever. Just, just, don't you all have work to do?"

Damn him! He'd been working here over a year now, and she still couldn't defend herself from the big, beautiful- damn it, she was doing it again. He was smiling that damned crooked smile, mocking her, seeing through her façade of calm. "Don't you have work to do as well, Jane? Or are you going to sit there staring at me all day. I have work to do too, you know. And make sure your chicken-"

"Teresa."

"_It_."

"_Teresa."_

"-_That_ _thing_ doesn't make a mess everywhere. I'm not cleaning up after it."

"Her."

"Her." Lisbon's voice went from cool to beyond-the-grave cold. Otherworldly cold.

Jane walked out feeling rather pleased with himself. It wasn't often he could make her flustered anymore. It was almost as if she had become immune. But today's episode had worked out perfectly. Possibly it was a little cruel to name a chicken after her, and then to bring said chicken into her office, but that was part of the fun. The game was on again. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that this mightn't have been about the chicken.

Lisbon watched Jane go and sit on his couch. Where was he planning on keeping the damn thing anyway? It wasn't as if his house had somewhere to keep a chicken…

Jane stuck his head around the doorframe.

"By the way, I'm leaving her here in the office, okay?" He walked away without waiting for a response.

Jane smirked to himself. If the chicken had thrown her off balance, let's see how she reacted to his next surprise. He bent over and retrieved the manila folder Van Pelt was tearing her desk apart trying to find. This was going to be good.

**A/N: if you review, I will love you forever. Please note that this is my first Mentalist fanfic.**


	2. Hiding Places

**A/N: **hello to everyone. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, all 11 of you. Something I thought I'd better mention: Reviews=Happy Juices=Creative Juices=wonderful Jane-filled ideas=more story=happy readers. Now, factor in zero reviews. That, in the end, would equal zero story. Just a little maths lesson for all of you out there. And thanks to everyone who put on a Story Alert! 

**Chapter 2: Hiding Places**

Jane glanced around, then snuck into Lisbon's office. She wasn't there, and no one else was watching. Hurriedly, he pulled a box out of his jacket pocket. In the box was a surprise for Lisbon. Hopefully she'd think it a peace offering, and not a bribe. Although her reaction might be amusing if she did. He was just placing it on the desk, facing where Lisbon's face normally was when she was at her desk.

"What are you doing?" Cho's voice sounded from the doorway. It didn't surprise him. He'd heard the footsteps. What did surprise him was the second voice.

"I was just asking myself the same thing. Jane, what the hell are you doing in my office?" Damn. She'd caught him. He turned around, an impish smile on his face.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

When seven o'clock rolled around, Jane got up and said his goodbyes. This ought to have roused suspicion. Jane never said goodbye. He just walked out. Or he never left, spending the night on his couch. But the only person who noticed this was Van Pelt, and she shrugged it off with the romantic notion that this was a form of chivalry from the infamous consultant, an almost-apology to Lisbon about the chicken incident. Although, she admitted to herself, it had been pretty funny, the way Jane had made Lisbon speechless.

"Don't forget tomorrow, Jane." Lisbon sounded amused. She was sure he was going to enjoy the task assigned to him, just as much as she was going to enjoy playing her role. Finally it was going to be pay back time. If she caught him early on, it would wipe that smug smile off his face, that annoying, smug, smarmy, crooked, gorgeous smile of his incredibly perfect- Dammit, she was doing it again. "Everyone else here at quarter to seven." This was met with much groaning. Having just finished a case, the team had been looking forward to a sleep-in.

Jane was thinking as her drove home. He was playing an elusive suspect in the next day's CBI training exercise. Lisbon was (predictably) the head of the investigation. This was a big deal for the CBI. And when Lisbon was on a case, especially an important one, she didn't go home at all. Not to eat, not to sleep. When it started, she'd go home and pack an overnight case with a couple of changes of clothes, and then she wouldn't go home until the case was closed. That was what made her apartment the perfect place to base himself, just to see how she'd react. He'd go home tonight, and move into her place in the morning. She'd take everything she needed to the office in the morning. That meant that he could get to her place at exactly 6:45. And she'd never suspect. Perfect.

This was going to be fun.

**A/N:** There is a pretty grey button just below this text. Go on. Push it. I dare you.


	3. It's all fun and games

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A/N: Oh, I only got about five reviews this time :( awwwwww. Sorry about the short chapters, but I had two good ideas that I wanted to get out there, without either being overshadowed by the other. But that was two chapters in as many days. Here's chapter 3. there will be more, but I don't know how long I want to make this… ideas and reviews are always welcome.

**Chapter 3: It's all fun and games…**

At 6:40 the next morning, Lisbon was at her desk, waiting for the others. A loud squawking came from next to the door. Damn. He'd left his chicken here. She didn't want to look after it for him, but she was too soft hearted to let the poor thing starve, even if he had named it after her. Another animal in her office. A pony, a chicken… what was he going to bring in next? A hippopotamus? She could make reference to a pig who was in here daily, but she'd never seen a pig with blonde curls and gorgeous, deep, beautiful blue- dammit, even when he wasn't here, he distracted her. It was bad enough that he was invading her dreams, without- _not_ that she was dreaming about him…

She toyed with the ornament she'd found on her desk. So that's what Jane had been up to yesterday. It was a photo cube, with one photo already in it. It was her, smiling up at the camera. She was wearing the necklace and earrings Jane had gotten her from the casino gift shop, the time they'd solved that murder of that casino owner. Of course, she'd given them back soon afterwards, but the thought had been there. He'd got the perfect colour to complement her skin, whether accidentally or on purpose.

Jane was at the front door. She'd locked it. Well of course she'd locked it. This was California for goodness sakes. But the lock wasn't going to worry him. He picked it.

Trying to think like Jane, Lisbon wondered where he'd decide to hide. Unlike in a normal case, this time they not only knew the suspect, and they knew how he thought. Of course, Jane normally knew how a suspect thought, but this time they knew him personally. On the other hand, he also knew _them_ personally, and he knew that he was being trailed. In a case like this, Jane's help would be invaluable. Then again, this time his help would lead them in the wrong direction… but she had an idea that whatever he had planned was going to be a big surprise. It would probably violate many rules, written and unwritten. How else did you explain the present?

_Maybe he just wanted to be nice. Maybe he wants you to be happy, _a traitorous little voice said from the back of her mind. She promptly ignored it.

Jane walked down Lisbon's hallway. His first impression was one of ordered chaos. When he'd first started at the CBI, he'd noticed that Lisbon's office had the same air. She'd gotten a lot tidier the longer he'd worked there. Probably so that he didn't read anything from it.

He'd been in her apartment before, but it had been scrupulously cleaned beforehand. Now that he thought about it, he was probably the reason for that. She'd had no idea that this was where he'd hide, so this was Lisbon's natural environment. Perfect for reading.

"Okay. Suspect files for everyone. Any personal observations, I'm willing to hear them now," Lisbon said, handing manila folders to her team. She felt rather foolish. They all _knew_ Jane, or knew him as much as he allowed. Which was pretty much all that was on the files. But then again, seeing something in black and white could help them out.

"I get the feeling he's gonna be somewhere that'll bug you, boss."

"Yeah, yeah, got that already. Took that for granted. Discussion in the car. We're going to have a little look around the residence of our dear consultant."

Jane wandered through Lisbon's place, looking at photos and books, movies and clothes. Apparently when she went out, Lisbon wore some rather outrageous clothes, and not just the visible ones, either. Who'd have thought?

Looking around Jane's house, Lisbon got the idea that this was all part of his charade. He needed somewhere to reside. This was a house, not a home. Very few ornaments adorned the bare rooms. The décor was negligent at best. It was sparsely furnished. It was as if he needed somewhere so that he wasn't homeless, and yet, in a way, he was. This was a place to stay in between the hours at the office. No love, no warmth, no happiness were contained within these walls. This was a cold, cold house.

Lisbon's phone was ringing. There was no way he was answering it. That would just give away his perfect hiding spot. He'd be hiding out here for more than a day so he needed to be pretty sure that no one suspected. There was no need for the neighbours to get suspicious and call Lisbon.

"Narny Tessa? It's Sally. Mummy said I could call you b'fore bed time, if you wasn't too busy hun'in' downa bad guys, but I guess you are, so I'll call you t'morrow. Night night!"

The voice of a five year old floated from down the hall. Presumably that was one of Lisbon's nieces calling to say good night. It was a pity she wasn't here to take the call.

Lisbon looked at the clock. 9 pm. Too late to call any of her nieces, even though her brother had called her earlier to say that Sal would be calling tonight if she was a good girl. She always loved talking to her youngest niece. She was cute, the was she slurred the word 'aunty', the way she'd picked up on her brothers' nickname for her when she was younger…

Talking to family was something she really looked forward too.

Jane had spent his night not sleeping on Lisbon's couch. He didn't turn on any lights, so as not to disturb the neighbours, but rather prowled the house like a cat. He'd decided to give Lisbon a thank-you present. She had a lot of dirty laundry and dishes, so he'd help out. It had an added bonus: when Lisbon got home, she'd think someone had broken in. But what sort of person would clean up instead of steal things? It would confuse her no end.

Jane was in the laundry, putting one load of washing in the dryer, and another into the washing machine. Water had spilled onto the floor. He slipped, and bashed his head hard on the bench on the way down, ripping open the skin above his temple.

_Bugger_.

Jane's head slammed into the tiled floor, causing black fuzziness to begin creeping across the edges of his vision. That was the problem with being so tall. You had so much further to fall. This was great. He was meant to be hiding. Well, his perfect hiding spot was perfect. No one would find him. Maybe not until it was too late.

Slowly, the darkness spread, until it enveloped him. Patrick Jane slipped in and out of consciousness, never quite knowing where he was.

"_You forgot, didn't you?"_

"_You honestly think that I forgot your birthday?"_

"_You did."_

"_What, you upset that Daddy didn't buy you a pony?" Lisbon glared at him, her brown curls framing her face._

"_Daddy, will Santa bring me a pony tomorrow?" Lisbon's brown curls morphed in to blonde ones, framing a face chubby with childish pleasure, smiling up at him, as a hand tugged him towards the department store Santa._

"_If you want him to, I'm sure he will. But do you think that he could fit it down the chimney? And where is it going to sleep? In your bed?" the five year old giggled._

"_No! He can have your bed. You can sleep on the couch, and Mummy will sleep with me!"_

"_But gorgeous, Daddy can't sleep on the couch! Where will Aunty Robin sleep when she comes to stay?"_

"_Patrick, this is all your fault! You killed them! I told her not to marry you, and now she's dead, and it's all your fault! You murderer! You-" his wife's aunt threw herself at him hysterically, pummelling him with her fists, sobbing and screaming at him at the same time. He tried to move away, but he found he couldn't move. He was tied down to a bed, and they were coming to sedate him, to stop him from remembering. He thrashed on the bed, screaming at them, screaming and sobbing, just as Robin had done to him, the day after… after… after…_

_Lisbon was looking at him pityingly, but he couldn't reach her. He looked on helplessly as she was taken from behind, one arm around her neck, another stabbing a kitchen knife into her stomach. She was bleeding, dying, screaming. And he could help her. Couldn't reach her. Couldn't move._

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drop by drop, blood was running down the drain, being washed away, never to be seen, never to be traced back to its owner, who was even now lying just metres away from the drain, blond curls matted, face pale and haggard, eyes closed. Never to be traced…

A/N: there's a pretty button. Press it. BTW, I'm not sure if "I pressed it, so give us more story" actually counts as a review… real reviews please, people, I'm begging you. And it seems that the chicken was a success!


	4. Preoccupation

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, I had a really, really bad case of writer's block. I tried doing the 10-drabbles thing, got good ideas for other stories, nothing for this. Started the story I mentioned in my A/N for Chapter 3. Still nothing. Then I heard 'You Found Me' by The Fray on the radio, and ideas started forming… So here goes.**

**Chapter 4: Preoccupation**

Lisbon was getting frustrated. The reason her team was picked out for the training was because of their brilliant track record. And now, three days into it, they had made no headway whatsoever. And to top it all off, that chicken was still in her office.

"Van Pelt, anything?"

"Sorry boss. He left his car at his house, and I can't find any trace of his credit card."

"He's not stupid, he won't use his card. Okay, he's got four more days let in hiding, so check all the car rental places in and around Sacramento for cars due back on the 21st or 22nd, hired by male, aged mid-thirties."

"Starting when?"

Rigsby piped up. "We found out about the exercise two weeks ago, on a Monday, so try then."

"He would have used his card, or paid in cash, so Cho, you look up his transactions in the last three weeks, see if you can spot anything unusual. I don't want Jane to win this thing."

-----

Lisbon walked into her office and gagged. Damn chicken. She'd had to clean up after it, and it was still making a mess of her office. She was glad her family had never had chickens. The house next door had, when she was ten. The smell constantly drifted over the fence. And now the same smell was permeating her office. She really hated chickens.

Something that they told you in kids' books: chickens are _loud_. True to form, she had stayed at the office every night since Jane had started hiding. And the dratted thing wouldn't let her sleep. Not at all. It woke up too damn early. And that was saying something, since she herself was getting up with the sun. Two nights, in her office, with the noise, and the smell, and no Jane here… wait, she had not just thought that. Although, that could explain quite a few things… No, no, no, no, no. She was not attracted to Patrick Jane. He was an annoying, pain in the ass consultant. Nothing more, however much she might wish otherwise.

"Grrrrr." She had to get control of herself.

Three days that damn thing had been sitting in her office, and her mood had gotten worse accordingly.

It was eating anything it was gives, pooping it up later onto the newspaper under its cage, laying an egg each morning… she thought. Somehow, all those eggs seemed to be phantom ones. It'd be there, she'd walk out of her office to do something, and it'd be gone. And somehow, Rigsby had egg sandwiches for lunch… Strange. If it were anyone else, she'd suspect them of teasing her. But all Rigsby ever thought about was his stomach, so maybe not.

She sighed. Bad idea. To sigh, you have to take a deep breath. And with that much chicken poo in the room, deep breaths are a big mistake.

She was going to have to take the chicken home. Well, might as well do it now, before the smell got any worse… but the thought of being up close and personal with the chicken in a confined space was not a nice one. Grimacing, she picked up the cage and carried it down to her car.

-----

Driving along the highway, Lisbon was singing along with the radio, albeit in a quiet voice.

_Lost and insecure_

_You found me, you found me_

_Lyin' on the floor_

_Surrounded, surrounded_

_Why'd you have to wait?_

_Where were you? Where were you?_

_Just a little late_

_You found me, you found me _

_In the end_

_Everyone ends up alone_

_Losing her_

_The only one who's ever known_

_Who I am_

_Who I'm not, who I wanna be_

_No way to know_

_How long she will be next to me_

Thinking hard, she wondered where Jane would be hiding. The next step would be for Van Pelt to check cameras for the rental car. Maybe then they could figure out where he was hiding.

-----

Lisbon pulled out her keys as she walked up the steps to her apartment. She's in a hurry; she wants to get back to the office. There is no way she's letting Jane win this.

She opens the door, walks through the living area to the balcony. Putting the cage down, she refills the water bowl. Another charming touch. It's a pink bowl, obviously meant for a dog. But the extra-special touch is the red lettering. _Teresa_. She really was going to kill him. Or serve him roast chicken for lunch the day he got back. Now _that_ would be fun.

Pushing aside thoughts of revenge, she grabbed her keys from where they lay on the bench, and headed out the door, locking it behind her. Now all she had to do was figure out where he was hiding…

-----

**A/N: Bom, bom, bommmmm (dramatic music). So, she's come home, but hasn't found him. I'm running out of ideas to keep this interesting, people. Push. The. Grey. Button. It has pretty green writing. Give me ideas, I give you story. Great trade-off, yes?**


	5. If they could see me now

**A/N: Thankyou to my new best friends: everyone who reviewed my last chapter. I was flooded with ideas, and I now have a basic storyline. It's a mix of several ideas. In my defence, you all wanted Lisbon to go back home, but none of you ever mentioned that you wanted her to find him.**

**Something I also asked and NOBODY has answered: so do I kill Jane?**

**BTW, yes, my spelling and measurement is wacky. I am Australian, so I'm going with my spelling and stuff. It's easier to run a spell check on.**

**Chapter 5: If they could see me now…**

Patrick Jane's eyes opened slowly. He tried to lift his head, only to find his face partially stuck to the floor. Where was he? He looked at the off-white tiles close to his eyes. There was something familiar about them…

He stood up, and looked around him. He didn't recognize anything. Walking around the apartment, his head spun dizzily. He headed floor the door, shaking his head, trying to clear it. He had to get home. Elizabeth would be waiting.

Walking out the door and down some steps, he looked around, but his maroon station wagon was nowhere to be seen. This was bad. His house keys, Kacie's car booster seat, they were all in the car.

Maybe he'd left it in the car park across the road. Why couldn't he remember? And what was he doing in that house anyway? He looked around. Judging by the light, it was around 5, 6 o'clock. If he ever found the car, he might just get home in time for dinner. Hopefully he would be able to think up a believable excuse before he got home, otherwise Liz would kill him. She was an extremely jealous lady; she couldn't stand him looking at any other woman. All his female friends had been driven off soon after they were married. He could see her now, tall, willowy, her dark brown curls framing a beautiful green-eyed face – what? No. His Liz had mousy brown hair, straight and unremarkable. Plain. So where had this porcelain-skinned brunette come from? She had gorgeous eyes, but he'd never seen her before in his life. He was in love with his Liz. He always had been. Why was he picturing other women?

So preoccupied with his thoughts was he, that he didn't notice the car coming as he staggered across the road. At the sound of a loud horn, he looked up and staggered backwards. He stumbled backwards off the road; the car missed him by centimetres. Shaking his fist, he swore at the driver. It was something Liz had been trying to cure him of for the last six years. But his arrogance (which he was quite proud of) wouldn't let him stop. If someone insulted him, he wasn't going turn the other cheek; he wasn't going to let it slide. He was going to retaliate.

His head was really aching. He had to find his car soon. Looking around, he realised he had no idea where he was. He'd never been in this neighbourhood before. How the hell was he meant to find his way home? Liz would be worried if he wasn't home for dinner. She'd taken the week off work to pack up the house. Next week they were moving to Sacramento. He had been offered a job as a consultant on the Red John cases. In two weeks time, once they had settled in, he was going to do some televised interviews about the case. He was going to draw Red John out of hiding, and 'prove' to the world that he really was psychic.

-----

Lisbon was almost at the office. She was just turning into the CBI employees car park when –

"Damn him!"

Her phone started to ring. Checking caller ID as she did a U-turn, she saw it was Van Pelt.

"Yeah?"

"_Umm, boss, you know how we were checking for rental cars? Well we found one we think is Jane. And Rigsby checked the street cameras for a number plate hit. We think we know where he –"_

"I know where he is, damn him, and he is going to die. I'm just in the car park heading out. You guys follow, yes?" Hanging up, she put her foot down. There was going to be hell to pay for this one.

-----

Jane was walking along the road, stumbling and swearing, when he heard sirens behind him. Looking around, a police car pulled up next to him. Bugger. He started to run, but stumbled and fell, hitting his head on the pavement. He winced that really hurt.

-----

Lisbon pulled up in front of her apartment building for the second time in less than an hour. Again, she was pissed off. But this time, she was ready to kill someone. This was not funny, this was crossing the line.

-----

Jane sighed. This was bad. He was in one of the holding cells in the local police station, he had a really bad headache, and his thoughts were fuzzy. He could barely remember his own name. It was a good thing that he wasn't totally crazy. He knew his name was Bobby McInnis. Or was it? He wasn't quite sure…

Maybe he shouldn't have yelled at that guy… or gotten frustrated so easily… or taken his frustration out on that window… or tried to hit the officer… Any one of these on its own would have gotten him a warning, but in combination, he was being kept at the station overnight until he 'sobered up'. He didn't think he was drunk, but that would explain a lot of things. Like his splitting headache, the reason he couldn't find his car, why he was slurring his words, and why he wanted to go to s l e e p . . .

Slowly, his eyes slid shut and his knees buckled. For the third time in less than twenty four hours, he hit the ground. And for the third time, his head bounced sickeningly, tearing open the partially closed wound on his head.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Blood was oozing out of his head.

-----

Sergeant Hargraves was having a bad day. His wife was threatening to leave him, his daughter had been caught smoking pot, and he'd had some drunkard try to attack him. The same drunkard that was below in the holding cells. When he sobered up, they'd get a name and address. Assaulting an officer and Drunk and Disorderly Behaviour amounted to a fine of $2 000. But the guy wouldn't give them a name. He just kept mumbling about someone called Liz, and how he had to find his car.

Sighing, he got up to try and question the poor guy again. As he walked through the door, he heard a thud and a sickening crack. Rushing towards the sound, he saw the blonde drunk lying on the floor, blood surrounding him. He appeared to have a bad cut on his forehead.

"Ben!" he yelled out to the office. "We're gonna need an ambulance!"

-----

Van Pelt pushed open the door the Lisbon's apartment. "Boss?" she called, unsure of where the senior agent was.

"Here."

Heading towards the sound of Lisbon's voice, she walked down the hallway. Lisbon was standing in a doorway, looking at something. Peering over her shoulder, the first thing Van Pelt noticed was the huge puddle of blood on the tiled floor.

"Is it -?"

"His? I don't know. I've already called forensics, and they're on their way. But if he's lost that much blood, I don't know how far he'll get. Some on, we've still got to catch him and arrest him, preferably before he dies of blood loss. That would be unfortunate."

"Indeed." Van Pelt was slightly surprised at the calm manner in which Lisbon was handling this. Jane had invaded her privacy, spent days living in her apartment, and –

"Then I wouldn't get to kill him myself." Her tone was light, as if they were discussing the weather, but there was a hard, cold glint of fury in her eye, as well as some thing else. It looked like – no, it couldn't be – fear? Of what? For Jane? Of what Jane had seen in her apartment? It wasn't like Lisbon kept a dead body in her closet. So why was she scared?

-----

The bed was rushed through the ER, and into the police room. The cops got their own room for use for prisoners or the like who needed medical treatment. Right now, Andy Hargreaves wasn't sure what this guy was. The ambos had said that the wound had been there for at least twelve hours, meaning that the guy was hurt before they picked him up. That would explain why he couldn't give them a name. Heck, it might even explain why he was acting so weird in the first place.

"Sir?" It was one of the doctors. "He's lost a lot of blood, and there's a lot of pressure building up in his head. It's like he's had a stroke. His brain is bleeding. We're going to do the best we can, but you might want to contact his next of kin, just in case. He might not know who he is when he wakes up."

"Thanks." Well, that was just great. Andy ran his hand through his hair. _They_ didn't know who he was, so how the hell was he meant to contact a next of kin? This was just great.

**A/N: So, there you go, folks. There is a really cute button just below. Press it, tell me what you think, and something magical will happen. I promise.**


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